


Stud muffin

by imanotaku



Series: Sugar and spice and everything nice [1]
Category: Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash, it's adorable, terrible puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 12:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17406512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imanotaku/pseuds/imanotaku
Summary: *Sorry for the terrible pun*An empty bakery, an angry seargent and a tired baker... It's a recipe for greatness!!





	Stud muffin

The case was a political mess. High stakes, influential people and a dead girl. Everyone pretended to be innocent, sending thoughts and prayers that did nothing, just made them look very worried. Worriers in the name of justice that threw money at their face to make it go away. Like hell, Hank was going to let it happen. Even if it meant dishing out threats and staying up until dawn, Intelligence would pull through.

  
But first, he needed to eat. The paperwork and empty leads had pushed the idea of food from his mind. It wasn’t a priority then, but now, there was nothing he wished more than a cup of coffee. Unfortunately, it was too early for any coffee shop to be open. Sleeping wasn’t an option- the images of the poor girl were burned into his retinas. He considered a drive-through, but it was too much work for such a bad coffee.

  
Hank was out of options. Or so he thought. He walked along the grey streets of Chicago, feeling the usual snowfall on his shoulders. The sun was still hiding behind the horizon, but there were a few rays that managed to escape, giving the city an orange glow. Unfortunately, even the Sun couldn’t defeat the Chicago weather.  
His eyes landed on his salvation. A small bakery, hidden between an apartment building and superstores. It was modest, with a dark red frame contrasting with the pale snow and a wide window, giving onlookers a preview of what they could expect: from cakes to cupcakes, even pies, all beautiful. They had various colors, too, like pink and or white.  
Hank’s mind begged him to come in as soon as the smell of honey and vanilla hit his nose. It was too good for him to resist.

  
Bells welcomed him in. The dining room was still unarranged, with chairs on top of tables or stacked on a corner. Hank walked around, considering leaving since it didn’t seem to be quite open. A man walked to the counter, scaring the shit out of him. He had a big and tired smile on his face and flour everywhere, even on his cheek.

  
“Sorry, I was in the back. Welcome,” The baker took off his apron and hanged it behind him. Hank took one good look at him- the man looked just as bad him. He probably stayed up all night too. He wondered if working in a bakery was tiring. It looked like it, “What would you like to eat?”

  
That was the moment Hank realized he was completely lost. There were so many choices and they all looked fantastic. On the other hand, he wasn’t a sweet tooth. The man was clearly a professional and it only made things worse. He turned to the price board for some guidance, but it was of no use. Parfaits, eclairs, macarons, … He had no idea what most of it meant, but it sounded great.

“Uhm… I don’t really…”

The baker seemed to understand his confusion and smiled softly before turning on the coffeemaker. He gently placed the filter holders in place to heat up with the machine before turning to him again. For someone who seemed to work all night, he was very energetic, “How about coffee first?”

Hank snorted and crossed his arms, “Do I look that bad?”

The man shook his head as the machine started turning on, metal sounds filling up the shop, “Don’t worry, I’ve seen worse. Believe me. The perks of opening up so early,” He said, checking the boiler pressure gouge. Everything was set, “How do you take it? Latte, cappuccino?”

“Simple, please. And in the biggest cup you have.”

The baker laughed and started working, putting a filter here and beans there. He hummed a tune quietly, a part of his own little world.

Hank felt weird, staring at the man. There was something about his energy that drew him in. He couldn’t look away. It was good to know someone, a total stranger, had his back. But it bothered him that he was so transparent. The case was showing on his face.

“Rough night?” The man asked as he put the cup of steaming coffee on top of the table. It smelled delicious, and Hank could feel himself wake up. He grabbed it and took a sip, feeling the sweet drug curse through his veins. It was nothing short of heavenly.

“You could say that. You too?”

“Yep, baking isn’t all sugar and spice,” He joked. Hank actually laughed at the terrible pun. It took a load off his chest. The small and silent bakery, with its bright owner, managed to make him forget about his monster-filled world.

“I’m Antonio,” The baker- Antonio said while putting a beautiful chocolate muffin with dark chocolate chips on the counter, “And this is the ‘wake up and go to work’ muffin. Aka, on the house.”

“Thank you. Hank Voight.”

“It’s not too sweet, I promise. And it has expresso,” Antonio smiled when Hank inspected it, “It’s made by me, so it’s great.”

He took a sip of his coffee to hide the smile that forced his way into his lips. He grabbed the muffin and took a small bite. It was great- the chocolate had a bite to it, not too bitter and not too sweet, the chocolate chips contrasted with the heavy expresso and it had a very tender texture.

It was so good that Hank finished it in three bites as Antonio happily looked on. It always made him fuzzy on the inside when people liked his cooking. He had spent years perfecting his craft just for those moments. All the hard work really paid off.

“You were right, it’s great,” Hank finished his coffee and took out his wallet, “And that’s why I’m paying for it.”

The baker frowned and shook his head, “No, I told you it’s on the house.”

“And I’m telling you I’m paying for it. No discussion.”

Antonio crossed his arms and stared at him. Hank did the same. They stared at each other for a while before Antonio gave in, raising his arms in defeat and huffing.

“It’s not fair, you’re a cop.”

Hank raised his eyebrows before shifting his gaze to his waist. His badge wasn’t showing. How did he guess? He wondered if it was his posture that gave it up, or how tired he was. Antonio seemed to be ignoring his confusion, deciding to focus instead on ringing his check.

“How-”

“My sister hates you,” He said, never lifting his eyes from his work. Hank’s soul dropped. Was the family of one of the perps? Was she a victim that never had justice? Was- “You threatened her friend and blackmailed him. Gabriela Dawson, remember?”

Hank felt like he was one step away from the noose. The baker’s eyes burned into his. The Casey case wasn’t his greatest moments, but it was his son on the line. Besides, they were on better grounds. Of course, she couldn’t stand him, but it was understandable. And Dawson was always willing to help, and he would do the same.  
It was complicated, and he hoped it didn’t stain his possible friendship with someone he respected. Dawson was Antonio’s family, so the possibilities were slim. His image of Hank was already set in stone. But when he introduced himself, the baker didn’t flinch. Desperation drowned him. Should he talk to him? Should he just pay and never go back? It wasn’t what he wanted to do, yet-

“I understand. You had to do what you had to do. I’m not in a position to judge.”

Hank stared at him, a quiet smile on his face. As much as he liked his lonely shop, Antonio hated how lacking it was at the moment. He opened his mouth to speak but shut it right away. He didn’t know what to say. What he did was awful, Matt never deserved anything like that, even when he broke up with Gabi. But everyone deserved a second chance, and Hank seemed to be a good guy. Maybe that stronghold was what was needed to survive the world. Antonio handed him the check with a smile. The past was the past and people changed.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Hank said and handed him a five, “Keep the change.”

Finally talking again, Antonio chuckled, “My friendship costs more.”  
“I’ll go to the bank then,” He knew full well what hid between those words. His reward was a full-bodied laugh from the man that lit up the room.

“How about you pay me next time? I’ll make sure your money’s well spent.”

Hank stared at him with one eyebrow raised and this time, they both laughed. Tears ran down Antonio’s eyes, “That-that sounds so wrong.”

The bell sounded again, announcing the entrance of another customer. And like that, the moment was gone. The sound of their stupid laughter still rang around the room. All the words said- the terrible jokes, the honest promises, and everything that wasn't said hang in the air like dampness before a storm. They bid their goodbyes and promises to return, leaving Hank with a sour aftertaste.

Watching the man walk away made Antonio’s traitorous heart clench. Before the woman could order, courage soared through him again. Costumer service be screwed.  
“Hank, don’t die on me!”

Hank chuckled and took one last look at his new friend- if he could call him that- and ventured to the harsh streets of Chicago, to his dark world once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
